


Prison Love for Me

by SpiderQ848



Category: A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series)
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderQ848/pseuds/SpiderQ848
Summary: Mark's gone now, so what's there left to do but join this rag-tag group of prisoners and live it up with Yancy? What could go wrong?
Relationships: Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier)/Reader
Kudos: 6





	1. Welcome to the Family

"So what do you say? Are we breakin' out or what?" Yancy asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

You stared back at him with a look of scepticism. "That's it? You're really going to help me?"

Yancy shrugged and kept his hand out, "I mean, yeah. Youse beat me fair and square, proved youse got a fightin' spirit in ya. Ain't fair to keep you cooped up in 'ere after all that."

There was a moment of tension as the other prisoners watched warily to see what you would do. You thought over his offer and for a moment, time stood still. Then you took his hand, "Okay, I'm staying."

"Alright, let's get to wor- wait, what?" Yancy broke off midsentence and stared at you in confusion, "Is youse goin' crazy or am I? Did youse just say youse was stayin'?"

You nod, "Yeah, you heard me right. I'll stay."

Yancy seemed at a loss for words in the face of this sudden change of heart. He looked around at his fellow inmates but they seemed just as lost as he was. "B-but what about all that, all that talk of somethin' worth fightin' for. Freedom and family types and all that. Youse just gonna give up on that or what?" He stammered.

"Look, to be honest, this whole situation, no, this whole heist thing. Right from the start, I was always just following Mark around. You know, the guy your buddy punched through a wall? And I mean, he's gone now I guess so I don't really know where to go from here," you explain.

"I wanted to get out at first because well, that's what we were trying to do before. So I figured, might as well keep at it. But what you said made me think, well if Mark's gone. I guess I could just stick with you lot and see where it takes me, at least for a while." You shrug, "If you'll still have me of course."

Yancy crossed his arms and stared at you with a strange expression on his face that made you squirm. "I mean, I understand if you don't want me here anymore. I mean, I did just beat you up and all. Which, sorry about that by the way. If you want, I could just try and escape on my own? Get out of your hair."

Your pitiful excuses were interrupted by Yancy's laughter as he clapped you on the shoulder hard enough to make you stumble. "That's enough out of youse, welcome to the family!"

You let out a sigh of relief, "Thanks, Yancy."

"Don't mention it," Yancy replied cheerfully, leading you over to a cafeteria table, the rest of the prisoners following close behind. "I could never say no to that handsome and/or beautiful face of youse's."

Your face heats up at the compliment but you decide to let it slide. After all, you'd just met the guy, and he was in jail after all. Maybe best not to get too cuddly, too quick.

Your motley crew takes a seat at the table with you sitting in the middle next to Yancy on one side and Bam Bam on the other. Bam Bam leaned over and smiled brightly at you, "So, you know all our names now. What's yours?"

"Y/N," you reply, awkwardly leaning away. The prisoners here sure are familiar.

"Lovely name," Yancy said, only half-listening as he sent one of the others off to get some food. "What are you in here for? You said something about a heist?" He turned back to you, giving you his full attention. To your relief, he didn't lean in the way Bam Bam had.

You frown, "Yeah, Mark had enlisted me to help rob a museum. Some special box, I'm honestly not sure, it was mostly his idea. The Warden took the box though."

Yancy nods, "Yeah, I saw it when youse was comin' in." He pauses for a second, "You wants it back?"

"I mean, I don't see how I would but I guess I am sort of curious about what's in it."

Before Yancy got a chance to respond, Tiny and Sparkles had come back with a few trays of food. The group dug in, sometimes squabbling over a particular piece and you were able to settle back as the rest of them fell into an easy conversation.

As weird as it seemed, maybe living in prison wouldn't be so bad after all. These were people you could get along with.


	2. I Don't Play Favourites

Days turned to weeks turned to months and slowly but surely, living in prison became normal. Acting out just enough not to make parole became second nature. Questioning the nature of your relationship with Yancy became routine.

Wait what was that last one? Yeah, that's right. In your time at the prison, you and Yancy had grown quite close.

However, you being the mostly silent protagonist you are, never quite had the guts to confront him on it. Instead, you spent your days agonizing over it. What did he mean that he always sat next to you at mealtimes? What about the fact that he always lets you have the first pick of contraband?

Why did he keep talking about your 'handsome and/or beautiful face'? The uncertainty was killing you.

Of course, it didn't help that the two of you were never actually entirely alone together. There was always at least one other person, blissfully oblivious of the bizarre dance Yancy had trapped you in, and stopping you from putting an end to it.

There were a couple of times where you almost managed to catch him alone. But as soon as you'd worked up the courage to say something, he'd notice your presence and stammer out an excuse to leave. It was all quite frustrating.

Finally, you managed to corner him after lunch one day.

"Why don't we go and catch up with the others, [Y/N]," he said with a shaky smile. His accent tended to waver when he was nervous. An odd tick but there was no time to think about it now.

You cross your arms and block his way to the door. Despite being quite a bit larger and stronger than you, he couldn't seem to bring himself to push past. You used this fact to your advantage. "This'll only take a second," you insisted, "We need to talk."

He sighed and shrank back a little bit, "Our time outside is so short [Y/N], are ya sure this can't wait?" He did halfhearted jazz hands in hopes of distracting you, "Fresh air is good for ya."

"Come on Yancy, please?"

His hands fell to his sides and he groaned, "Fine, can't say no to that handsome and/or beautiful face of youse's." He took a deep breath, "You want to leave don't ya?"

"I need to know if, wait. I what?" You started to speak but was cut off by Yancy's incredible leap to a perplexing conclusion. "Is that what you thought I kept trying to talk about?"

He looked just as confused as you felt as he tilted his head like a confused puppy and crossed his arms defensively, "Is that not what youse wanted to talk about?"

You shake your head with an enthusiasm he couldn't possibly misinterpret, "Of course not. Why would you even think that?"

"Cause youse kept actin' so antsy all the time. Youse barely wanted to stay in the first place. I was ready to help ya escape and everything!" He exclaimed, "I thought you actin' all fidgety around me was cause you were gonna tell me you wanted to escape after all. And you didn't want to say it in front of the others so I thought I could stop you by never being alone with you."

Your mouth fell open and you stared at him, slack-jawed. Where had he gotten that notion from? "I was acting antsy because I kept thinking I was going to get stabbed. And by the time I got over that fear, I was acting weird because you were acting weird!"

He frowned, "I wasn't acting weird. I was hoping that if I was nicer to you, you wouldn't want to leave."

"Wait," you put your hands up as you felt yourself flush, "You were just being extra nice because you thought I was thinking of leaving?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah, why did you think I was doing it?"

You brought your arms in towards yourself and hugged yourself awkwardly, "That's umm, not important."

"What do youse mean?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. His accent returned as he slowly wrestled the conversation back under control. "Youse can tell me."

"Well you know how I wanted to talk to you and you thought it was because I wanted to leave?" You started, unable to meet his intense stare. "Well, it was actually because I wanted to ask you about your, uh, behaviour. And ask if maybe it was because."

Your voice started to trail off and he leaned in slightly, "What is it? Speak up, I can 'ardly hear youse."

"I thought maybe it was because you liked me," you mumble, fully blushing now and looking anywhere but at Yancy.

To your surprise, Yancy didn't laugh at you. Quite the opposite actually, he seemed angry. "You thought I had feelins for youse?" He demanded, "Youse thought I was playin' favourites or somethin'?"

You scrambled to fix the situation but wasn't quite sure what to say. You had prepared for a lot of reactions, shock, pity. But not anger. "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything," you stammered but Yancy wasn't hearing any of it.

"I don't do that kinda stuff ya know," he insisted gruffly, "I 'aint soft or nothin. I don't coddle, I'm not soft on anybody. My gangs gotta be tough. Don't nobody dare be thinking I play favourites."

He raised his hand and his voice, causing you to flinch back but he just growled in frustration and stormed out of the room.

Even after he left, you spent a few more seconds tensed up and nervous. When it became clear he wasn't coming back, you collapsed onto a nearby bench and broke down sobbing. You tried your best to stem the flow of tears but it wasn't working no matter what.

Why were you even crying? You didn't care that much what he thought of you, did you? You were just another prisoner here and you were okay with that. It must just be because you didn't like being yelled at, you decided.

Seems prison hadn't toughened you up as much as it promised.

Once you'd stopped crying, you cleaned yourself up in the kitchen. The cook thankfully seemed to sense your mood and turned a blind eye, allowing yourself to make yourself a little more presentable before heading off to take a nap in your cell.

Dinner was going to be awkward.


End file.
